After putting on his suit, Imran was standing in front of the mirror, bending this way and that, trying to tie his tie. "Oh no… again… too short or too long… I swear, these ties are just coming out wrong," he muttered. "And then the tie… oh for heaven's sake… I won't tie it!"
As he said this, he gave it a jerk, causing the silk tie's knot to not only slip but also tighten around his neck so much that his face turned red and his eyes bulged.
"Uh… uh…" faint sounds came from his throat, and using all his lung power, he screamed, "Help… I'm choking! Suleiman!"
A servant ran into the room… initially, he didn't understand what was happening because Imran was standing straight, hitting his thighs with both hands!
"What happened, sir?" he asked in a choked voice.
"Sir's child, I'm dying."
"Oh… but… how…?"
"But… what… if…" Imran gritted his teeth, dancing, "Loosen it!"
"Loosen what?" the servant asked in a bewildered tone.
"Your father's shroud cord… hurry up… I'm choking."
"Why don't you explain properly?" the servant got frustrated too.
"Oh really, am I explaining wrong? Me, Imran, MSc, PhD, am I explaining wrong? You fool, this is called a metaphor in Urdu and a simile in English. If I'm wrong, let's have a debate right now before I die."
The servant looked closely and noticed the tie, which was tightly knotted around his neck, making his veins bulge. This was not a new thing for him! Several times a day, he had to deal with such foolishness!
He untied the tie from Imran's neck.
"If I was wrong, then how did you understand what I meant?" Imran roared.
"That was a mistake, sir!"
"Again, you say mistake? Whose mistake?"
"Mine!"
"Prove that it was your mistake," Imran said, falling onto a sofa and glaring at him.
The servant started scratching his head.
"Do you have lice in your head?" Imran scolded.
"No, sir."
"Then why were you scratching?"
"Just like that."
"You idiot… illiterate… you waste your energy with pointless actions." The servant remained silent.
"Have you read Jung's psychology?" Imran asked.
The servant shook his head in the negative.
"Do you know how to spell Jung?"
"No, sir!" the servant replied, tiredly.
"Well, remember… J-U-N-G… Jung! Many illiterates pronounce it as 'Jang' and some as 'Jong'… Those suffering from intellectual diarrhea start pronouncing it as 'Zhong'… In French, 'J' is pronounced as 'Z', but Jung was not French."
"Will you have chicken for dinner… or partridge?" the servant asked.
"Half partridge, half quail," Imran said, annoyed. "Yes, so what was I saying just now…?" He fell silent, thinking.
"You were saying that the spices should be roasted until they turn red," the servant said seriously.
"Yes, and always roast on a low flame!"
Imran said. "Don't stir the ladle in the pot in such a way that it makes noise and makes the neighbors' mouths water. By the way, can you tell me where I was preparing to go?"
"You!" the servant thought for a moment. "You were going to buy a shalwar kameez fabric for me! Twenty thousand rupees for the fabric and boski for the shirt."
"Good! You are a very capable and loyal servant! If you don't keep reminding me, I would forget everything."
"Shall I tie the tie for you, sir?" the servant said affectionately.
"Tie it."
While tying the tie, the servant muttered, "Twenty thousand rupees for the fabric and boski for the shirt. Shall I write it down?"
"That would be very good," Imran said.
After tying the tie, the servant scribbled it down on a piece of paper and handed it to him.
"Not like this!" Imran said seriously, pointing to his chest. "Pin it here." The servant pinned it to his chest with a pin.
"Now I'll remember," Imran said and left the room. After crossing the hallway, he reached the drawing room… where three girls were sitting.
"Wow, Imran bhai!" one of them said, "You kept us waiting! You take so long to get dressed."
"Oh, so you were waiting for me?"
"Why! Didn't you promise an hour ago to take us to the movie?"
"To take you to the movie? I don't remember… I was getting ready for Suleiman…" Imran said, pointing to his chest.
"What is this?" The girl leaned forward and asked, "Twenty thousand for the fabric… and boski! What does this mean?"
Then she started laughing uncontrollably. Imran's sister, Suraiya, also got up to see, but the third girl remained seated. She was probably a new friend of Suraiya's.
"What is this?" Suraiya asked.
"I'm going to buy shalwar kameez fabric for Suleiman," Imran replied.
"Why did you make a promise to me then?" she said angrily.
"What a nuisance!" Imran shook his head and said. "Should I believe you or Suleman?"
"Believe that scoundrel! Who am I!" Suraiya said. Then turning to her friends, she added, "Let's go alone! If you go along, it will only be embarrassing... you might end up doing something foolish!"
"Just look at this!" Imran said, making a sad face and speaking in a pained voice. "She thinks I'm a fool, Suraiya. I'll die soon, any time now! Whenever my tie gets tied wrong! And don't say anything to poor Suleman! He is my benefactor! He just saved my life!"
"What happened?" Suraiya's friend Jamila asked in a worried voice.
"The tie was tied wrong!" Imran said with utmost seriousness.
Jamila started laughing, but Suraiya remained annoyed. Her new friend stared at this serious fool in astonishment.
"If you say so, I'm ready to go to the picture." Imran said. "But remind me on the way back that I have a paper pinned to my chest."
"So, will it stay like this?" Jamila asked.
"Of course."
"I will certainly not go," Suraiya said.
"No, it won't be fun without Imran Bhai," Jamila said.
"Bravo!" Imran said happily. "I feel like replacing Suraiya with you! I wish you were my sister. This stubborn Suraiya doesn't appeal to me at all."
"You yourself are stubborn! I never find you nice," Suraiya retorted angrily.
"See, this is my little sister!"
"I'll tell you what," Jamila said seriously, "take that paper out and keep it in your pocket. I'll remind you."
"And if you forget... well, any passerby might see it and remind me."
"I promise I won't forget!"
Imran took the paper out and put it in his pocket. Suraiya seemed a bit tense.
As they stepped outside, a motorcycle pulled up under the portico with a dignified and heavy-set man sitting on it.
"Hello! Super Fayaz!" Imran shouted, extending both hands.
"Hello! Imran... my lad - are you going somewhere?" the motorcyclist said. Then, looking at the girls, he added, "Oh, excuse me... but this is urgent. Imran, hurry up."
Imran quickly jumped onto the carrier, and the motorcycle sped off through the gate.
"Did you see that?" Suraiya said, biting her lower lip.
"Who was that?" Jamila asked.
"Superintendent Fayaz from the Department of Investigation... but I can't understand what interest he has in an eccentric person like my brother. He often takes him along."
"Why did you make a promise to me then?" she said angrily.
"What a nuisance!" Imran shook his head and said. "Should I believe you or Suleman?"
"Believe that scoundrel! Who am I!" Suraiya said. Then turning to her friends, she added, "Let's go alone! If you go along, it will only be embarrassing... you might end up doing something foolish!"
"Just look at this!" Imran said, making a sad face and speaking in a pained voice. "She thinks I'm a fool, Suraiya. I'll die soon, any time now! Whenever my tie gets tied wrong! And don't say anything to poor Suleman! He is my benefactor! He just saved my life!"
"What happened?" Suraiya's friend Jamila asked in a worried voice.
"The tie was tied wrong!" Imran said with utmost seriousness.
Jamila started laughing, but Suraiya remained annoyed. Her new friend stared at this serious fool in astonishment.
"If you say so, I'm ready to go to the picture." Imran said. "But remind me on the way back that I have a paper pinned to my
"Imran Bhai is an interesting person!" Jamila said. "At least, I really enjoy his company."
"One lunatic considers the other lunatic as sane!" Suraiya said with a twisted mouth.
"But he don't seem crazy to me." Suraiya's new friend remarked.
And she had just spoken the truth. Imran's face didn't seem crazy. He was especially charming and attractive, a young man of about twenty-seven! He had good taste and liked cleanliness. He was healthy and athletic. He had gone to England after completing his MSC degree from a local university and returned with a doctorate in science. His father, Rahman, was the Director General in the Department of Investigation. On his return from England, his father had tried to get him a good position, but Imran didn't care.
Sometimes he would say he would trade in scientific instruments! Sometimes he would say he would establish his own institute and serve science.... Anyway, sometimes one thing and sometimes another! The whole house was tired of him, and after returning from England, he became particularly foolish. So foolish that even the servants at home would make fun of him. They would loot him properly, making ten-rupee notes disappear from his pocket, and he wouldn't even notice.
His father didn't even bother to look at him. Only his mother was such that because of her, he was still living in the house. Otherwise, he would have been kicked out long ago.... Despite being the only son, Mr. Rahman had become helpless in front of him!
"He doesn't seem Lunatic until he's silent." Suraiya said. "If you have to spend a couple of hours with him, you'll know."
"Does he run to bite?" Jamila said with a smile.
"If you keep taking interest in him like this, you will know one day." Suraiya said, pursing her lips.